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Fashion

Alice's wonderland

She started out with a pair of scissors, a phone and a vision of the perfect frock... Now designer Alice Temperley's whimsical dresses are being snapped up by A-listers from Sarah Jessica Parker to Gwyneth Paltrow. But she still hasn't fulfilled all her ambitions, discovers Chloe Fox

Alice Temperley's fashion empire is run from a quiet, cobbled mews off west London's boutique-filled Ledbury Road - although it's more like a village, than an empire. 'You are now entering Temperley,' a sign should read. 'Please watch your speed.' People waft in Temperley-ville. Beautiful young people, often called Emily, make you cups of tea while you wait patiently, even though the magpie in you is drawn, through an Indian door frame, into a chandeliered grotto of glittering garments. There is an otherworldliness about Temperley's domain; it's a kind of aspirational Aladdin's cave. 'Buy me!', the rows and rows of beautiful, colourful dresses and knitwear seem to murmur. 'And you, too, could have all this.'

Temperley, with her eponymous label, is this decade's most PR-perfect British fashion success story: she's a Somerset-born beauty whose designs make girls feel like women, whose barefoot Gatsby-esque gatherings can bring out the child in even the most sophisticated fashion cat and who American Vogue recently dubbed 'the designer making the biggest waves in British fashion'. Followers of fashion on the lookout for this summer's whimsically pretty dresses need look no further than Temperley. Sniffed at by some for being built on little more than beads and sequins, the five-year-old company will this year turn over an estimated £14m.

And then in comes Alice, the 30-year-old girl-woman behind this Wonderland. She is startlingly beautiful, with a whisper of a waist and cat-like green eyes, one of which is flecked with brown. Only the wavy, unbrushed Botticelli locks that almost skim the small of her back tell another, more hippy story. But as she chat, chat, chats and charges around, you realise something key; that she's the one thing in this place that doesn't float, the human engine that motors the dream.

Before we go for lunch, Temperley takes me on a breakneck tour of her domain. And, wow, what a domain. When she and her financier husband Lars Von Bennigsen (then her boyfriend of two years) started the company in 2000, Temperley London (did they know, even then, that there would one day be a Temperley New York, a Temperley Los Angeles, a Temperley World Domination plan?) was just Alice, a pair of scissors and a telephone. When they moved to the mews in 2002, it was into numbers 6 and 9 - enough room for a showroom, an office and a split-level flat to live in. In the three-and-a-half years since then, they have bought up numbers 2 to 10 and filled them to the rafters with some 67 employees. 'This is accounts, this is sales, this is bridal,' blurts Alice, with a wave of her hand, as we charge from skylit room to room, dodging rails of colourful fabrics and pretty girls laden down with armfuls of lace along the way. Somewhere in the whirl, we mislay Monkey, the dark haired shih-tzu that Lars gave to Alice for her 30th birthday present last year. 'Will someone look after Monkey while I'm out?' she yells, to nobody in particular, safe in the knowledge that somebody will.

Before we go, we sit down in Alice's airy office. She shows me photographs on her laptop of the recently opened LA store and of her and Lars's recent holiday in Kenya's Rift Valley. Temperley (who would have been a photographer in another life) is an obsessive cataloguer of life's happiest moments, as picture folders named 'Mexico', 'Ibiza', 'party', 'wedding' and 'New York' attest. Then, slam, the computer is shut and she's on to the next thing. 'Look at my diary!' she squeals, flicking back and forth from page to page before opening an invitation to a dinner for Helena Christensen later in the week. 'Are you going?' she says sweetly. Er, no.

Christensen is just one of the long-limbed celebrity fan-base that has helped put Temperley on the fashion map. The likes of Scarlett Johansson, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jennifer Aniston, Kate Winslet, Claudia Schiffer and Catherine Zeta-Jones have also been photographed shimmering in her hand-embellished creations. When Sarah Jessica Parker wore one of her beautiful lace circle dresses on Sex and the City, America sat up and took notice (she has since left London and shows in New York, where she has a huge downtown boutique). But for every PR plus point, there's a disaster waiting to happen. 'Unfortunately, we don't have any control over who buys my clothes,' she says, her voice clipped with disappointment. 'We certainly wouldn't have given Rebecca Loos or Camilla Parker Bowles the clothes they have bought.'

For all her bohemian bonhomie, Temperley is easily annoyed. What galls her the most is when people pigeonhole her. 'There is nothing I hate more,' she sighs, as she shrugs on a tailored jacket of her own design before we head out for lunch, 'than when people presume that I am a la-di-da moneyed west London girl who hasn't had to work as hard as I have to get here.'

On our way to trendy Asian restaurant E&O, Temperley's favourite lunchtime hangout, she gives a wave of her doll-like hand in the direction of your average white stucco-fronted dream home. 'We just bought the bottom two floors of that building. But only because we wanted its garden.'

One of Temperley's earliest memories is of being caught by her mother cutting up her favourite Twenties beaded lampshade to make into a necklace. Hers was a picture-book childhood, growing up on her parent's cider farm in Somerset with her younger brother and two younger sisters. Creativity was actively encouraged, especially by her mother, Di - whose home-made wedding dress had a train made entirely of peacock feathers. By the time she was 11, Alice was cashing in on her talents by selling beaded earrings to local women, for £1.20 a pair. Never an academic, she was happier with her nose in the dressing-up box than in a book. When she wasn't making clothes, jewellery, wall-hangings, you name it, Temperley was shifting her bedroom around. 'I used to change its layout every weekend,' she laughs. 'I should really have worked on Changing Rooms instead of becoming a fashion designer.'

But textiles were always Temperley's first love and still to this day provide the foundation for every single piece of clothing she designs. 'I start with the fabric and work upwards,' she says matter-of-factly of her unique method (that earned her the award for innovation from her alma mater, Central Saint Martins). More than anything, it is this attention to detail that sets Temperley's designs apart. That and the fact that they are cut to look as good on real women as on a 6ft-tall model . 'When she designs,' says model Laura Bailey, I really think it is with herself and her friends and her mum and her sisters in mind.'

In almost every way, Temperley's family informs her work. Not only is her husband the brains behind the operation, but her sister Matilda is head of sales. 'Even when I interview people for jobs,' Temperley explains. 'The questions I ask myself are: "Could I take this person home? Could I hang out and party with them?"'

Partying is a key component of the Temperley ethos. Four or five times a year, loyal members of the glittering troupe receive a social summons of some kind: to a smoked salmon and bagels 'Breakfast at Temperley', a Burlesque after-show party or a bucolic fancy-dress weekend in Somerset. Every year since she was 18, Alice - who proudly tells me that she can 'drink and party most people under the table' - has hosted an annual summer party in Somerset to celebrate her birthday. Recently, it has become more than that; a chance for business and pleasure to meet under the stars - and the influence of her father's cider. 'Last year got a bit out of control,' Temperley says, her eyes flashing devilishly. 'It was my 30th birthday and our third wedding anniversary, so we pulled out all the stops.' By all accounts the Arabian Nights-themed extravaganza was quite something, with 400-odd guests (including Jacquetta Wheeler, make-up artist Charlotte Tilbury and Saffron Burrows) being entertained with fire-eaters, ska bands and a jaw-dropping fireworks display. 'It ended up costing us 70 grand,' says Temperley.

Just like Alice and Lars's Twenties-themed wedding, the party made it into the pages of Vogue, proving that there's no better PR than a picture-perfect lifestyle, strewn with rose petals. And that is the secret to the Temperley success. It's about much more than the clothes; it's about the lifestyle that those clothes might magically enable. 'When I wear one of Alice's dresses I feel like anything is possible,' says actress Emilia Fox, whose lace wedding dress Temperley designed last summer. 'I can put on a pair of high heels and feel more glamorous than I ever have, or I can just as easily imagine myself kicking off those shoes and running barefoot in a field.' One in every three phone calls to Temperley is from a bride, hoping to buy into the dream. Last year, it got out of control and a decision was made to open a separate bridal department.

Behind every luxury brand lies a tantalising promise: the ranches and polo parties of Ralph Lauren, Asprey's tea party on the lawn of a stately home, those decadent Gucci late nights. Now that Temperley is a globally established name (it sells in 35 countries worldwide), it is time to move to the next level. 'We want to build a lifestyle brand,' Temperley explains, between mouthfuls of chicken teriyaki at lunch. 'I'm wearing black today so that I am a blank canvas to try out some handbags this afternoon.' Travel accessories, homeware, even a possible perfume are all in the pipeline.

But you sure don't get global on creativity alone. There's a power behind the prettiness and in this case it's Lars. 'I couldn't have done any of it without him,' says Alice, rubbing her eye with the hand that carries a golf-ball sized aquamarine as a mark of his love. 'There have been so many times over the past five years that I have been broken, literally sobbing in a corner. Every time Lars has picked me up and told me it's going to be OK and that I have to carry on. He's the one who keeps the wheels turning.'

The couple's courtship took place a world away from haystacks and sunsets in the Met Bar. It was 1998 and Alice was working as a cocktail waitress to pay her way through her last year at the Royal College of Art. Lars - the German son of a food-processing magnate - was a banker, working in Asian equities and earning a good living while he was about it. He fell in love immediately. She didn't even notice him. They eventually met at a mutual friend's party, but it took a while for Alice to be won over by a man who 'didn't know how to flip a sheep on to its back and deliver a lamb'. But within six months his charms had worked and she was living with him in Hong Kong. When they returned to London, Alice, with Lars's encouragement, created her first collection. Ever the risk-taker, Lars decided to leave his job and devote himself to building up the company. 'He has this dogged vision,' says one friend of the couple. 'And he won't stop until he's made it a reality.'

Together, Temperley says, she and Lars are like fire and water. She is high energy, a doer, prone to panicking. He is calm, controlled, considered. She can be painfully shy (she scoots off the catwalk after her shows as quickly as she has scooted on), to the extent that those who don't know her find her standoffish. He is smoothly charming, with a sideways smile for everyone, and rarely forgets a name. When I arrive for our interview, he is in a meeting but quickly comes to say hello and make sure I have all I need. In his pinstriped suit and open-necked white shirt, he looks almost out of place in this sumptuous, sparkling dreamland he's helped create.

If Alice has a problem, Lars fixes it. Recently, she has felt overwhelmed by the growth of the company. 'Suddenly, it was all about meetings and delegating, and I was losing sight of why I started designing in the first place. What began as my baby had turned into a sort of monster. I needed to re-assess. I needed time to be creative. We made an organisational decision: mornings are for meetings and the afternoons are set aside for me to sketch and think.'

For her next collection, Temperley is toying with the idea of an African theme. 'I want to always be moving forward,' she insists. 'I get very annoyed when people just think I'm about sparkly dresses.' Pity the American PR who came over to visit last week and said how 'surprised' she was to see Alice in the black crepe mini-dress and biker boots she's wearing today. 'What did she think? That I am perpetually in a fuchsia-pink evening dress?' The very thought makes her eyes narrow in irritation. 'Obviously the dresses are a huge part of Temperley, but they are only the beginning of the story.'

Temperley has to have acupuncture every fortnight, just to stay calm. Today she has been up since four, her brain whirring. 'There's so much to do,' she half-whispers. Since February, she has been in a different country every week. This week alone, she has to design a breast cancer T-shirt, tiaras for a Moet & Chandon advert in America, finalise the prints for her spring/summer collection and start thinking about autumn/winter.

The subject of her business seems to remind Temperley that there's work to be done and it's time to get the bill. A quick stride and we're back at HQ. She's late for her handbags meeting, but wants to show me her latest creation: a huge piece of cardboard on which she has stuck every Polaroid, from every photoshoot, since the very beginning. 'When I see this, it blows me away how far we've come,' says Temperley, who is inexplicably wearing the prosthetic pregnant belly she uses to cut maternity shapes. Almost all her dreams have come true, but there is still one more rung on life's ladder. 'I want to have four children and live in the country with a barn for my textile archive and another barn to work in,' she says, stroking her plastic bump. In a flash, she checks herself. 'But we can't do that quite yet,' she insists. 'Lars is right. We still have more to do before we can put our feet up.'